


The Wicked Mind of Sherlock Holmes

by honeycakes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Drugged Sherlock, His Last Vow Spoilers, Masturbation, Molly Hooper Appreciation, One Shot, Sexual Content, Sexual Sherlock, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycakes/pseuds/honeycakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*SPOILERS FOR SHERLOCK, S03E03, 'HIS LAST VOW'*</p><p>-------</p><p>Takes place as Sherlock is being given a drug test. As he, John and Molly wait for the results, Sherlock, in his drug-afflicted state, makes a few impure and unexpected deductions about a certain, very attractive mortuary worker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wicked Mind of Sherlock Holmes

It was a deduction he had never meant to make.

 

He supposed the drugs gushing through his veins had something to do with that. He had been sitting on the table for a good twenty minutes or so, trying to ignore the way John was glaring at him. Glaring. The nerve of it. Staring with a vengeance. Blame in his eyes. He blames. Blames you. All the wrongs you've committed against him. Disappointment. _Always a disappointment. **ALWAYS** -_

 

He tore his mind from that train of thought and his eyes slid around for something different to focus on. They found her.

 

Molly had been pacing in front of her desk in a distracted way since he'd entered the room, occasionally throwing glances at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. Sherlock knew he looked rather awful, dirty and scruffy and wearing a rather filthy pair of sweatpants, but looking awful had been the point. Feeling his eyes pass by her, she folded her arms defensively across her chest, and her pacing began to quicken. His eyes locked on her slight form and stayed there, unblinking, as he assessed her.

 

'Crossing of the arms, a defensive action, she has something she's been trying to hide, not hide, more likely keep from coming to attention. Nails uneven, down to the nub, nail-biter, nervous habit, been feeling stress recently, likely to do with lack of engagement ring, band of skin still a paler shade than rest of finger, engagement- Terry? Trevor? Tom? Tom!- engagement to Tom broken off recently. Hair pulled back from face, ends clean cut, lighter portions, highlights, changed hair after breakup, new hair, new woman, sweet, dependable _Molly_ -'

 

His thoughts snapped off. He tilted his head slightly, considering the train he'd just killed. Sweet, dependable Molly. To anyone else, a passing bit of detail to her character, but to Sherlock's drug-enhanced mind, it was a simple piece of poetry. Which was not like him. Not even slightly. He blinked, then went back to his analysis.

 

'Right, okay, hair, clean cut, highlights, like honey, honey with sweet, light rivers of sunlight streaking throug- Oh now really, not even slightly necessary, let's not wax poetic.' But the sweet stimulation of his mind seemed keen now. And Sherlock looked on as a voice, so like his own, and yet so, so different, began to whisper it's deductions.

 

' _Recently cut, but still long, still flowing past the long, slender neck, past the gently rounded shoulders, almost to that soft, slim waist. Pulled straight back, widening the eyes, those round, sweet, long-lashed eyes, flattering the cheekbones, high cheekbones, pink cheeks, blushed, warmed cheeks, pink like her lips, that sweet, heart shaped mouth, pink from being bitten, nipped at by white teeth, chewed at nervously_...' By this point, Sherlock had begun to fidget uncomfortably, trying to recapture his mind, but his eyes caught John's, John's narrowed, angry, worried eyes, and Sherlock looked back to the slender woman as she paced.

 

' _Pacing, pacing, folding her arms, trying to hide, hide what, hide her anger, her fear, trying to stay sweet and simple, so very sweet, and chewing on a fingernail, a fingertip caressed by soft, pink lips while she paces, paces, pacing on, walking purposefully, eyes on the desk, eyes catching mine, such sweet, round, bright eyes, pacing, pacing. Back straight, feeling stiff, new mattress, recently bought mattress, mattress bought to accommodate two people, two bodies, tangling and rutting, bodies curving, back arching, naked Molly, blue shirt, flowery sort of pattern, lab coat, pants, loose shirt, tight pants. Tight pants. Sensible shoes. Tight pants. Hugging the hips, the curved hips, curvier than usual. No, not curvier than usual, curving more than usual. Swinging hips, pendulous hips, swaying walk. Had an orgasm recently. Two hours maximum_.' Sherlock's eyes jumped back to her face, reassessing the blush on her cheeks. the pink in her lips, the brightness of her eyes, and considering her schedule. His pale eyes slitted, his head tilted, and he picked up where the voice had left off..

 

'Molly Hooper, specialist registrar, St. Bart's Hospital. Typical hours, seven through nine. Cases of study working overtime: frequent. Time presently, eight forty three in the morning. Experienced an orgasm shortly before work. _A hot orgasm, a wet orgasm_ \- That's enough of that, experienced an orgasm, came to work. Last time subjec- _Sweet, succulent Molly_ \- subject attending work post-orgasm, she was fidgety, would blush on being looked at, didn't bother brushing her hai- _still smelled like sex, like heat, like woma_ \- her hair, more likely, didn't think to, indicating that she was not used to the self-ministering of pleasure. Given the information at hand, it is likely that the subject, on ending her relationship with- _ridiculous, annoying, idiotic dandy, didn't deserve the time of day, didn't deserve her sweet body thrusting up aga_ \- Tom, her relationship with Tom, began avidly masturbating, has become accustomed to coming in to work post-orgasm.' Sherlock blinked. The very drugs themselves were whispering, murmuring dirty little asides in his ear, and all at once he was overcome by an image of Molly, sweet, lovely Molly, reclining on the table she was even now pacing in front of, eyes rolled back, hair sticking to her face and body, quick, slender fingers dancing over her bared breasts, down her stomach--He forced his mind away from that wicked train of thought, twitching and fidgeting and causing a worried glance from the likes of both John and Molly. His head tilted once more as his mind jumped back onto the train of thought, considering the timeline.

 

'Molly dumps Tom approximately two weeks ago, judging by the tanlines on her ring finger, between then and know becomes used to pleasuring herself, indicating a quick adaption time, depending on when the habit started, could be a remarkable example of human adaptation-'

 

“Molly, exactly when was it you started masturbating?”

 

The next few moments, Molly stopped her pacing, whirling around to look at Sherlock, her lab coat whipping around behind her, effectively knocking a microscope to the floor. Glass shattered sharply as a blush rose to her cheeks, her lips parting in shock and emitting a shrill noise. Simultaneously, John knocked over a chair somewhere to his right, spluttering in a combination of shock, empathetic embarrassment and indignation. Sherlock, realizing that the question was not only completely out of context but also not the sort of thing one person should ask another, and definitely not in public and with witnesses, began apologizing and trying to explain himself over the loud discouraging noises coming from both compatriots. He also, embarrassingly enough, found himself turning a nasty shade of pink. Minutes later, when the results of the drug test came back, Molly slapped him. Multiple times. And he couldn't really find it in him to complain very much.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little one-shot, I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to comment, critique, etc, and thank you for reading!


End file.
